Asphalt Barriers

Recently there appeared on the pages of dallasfood.org a discussion of the city's confined culinary geography. Some people, as you all know, rarely deign to travel outside the loop because enough exists within the circular strip of asphalt to satisfy their needs. Quite a few, however, go a little further, condemning the space outside the loop as a soulless wasteland.

We've all probably encountered this. Years ago a man sitting beside me at The Old Monk bemoaned the absence of a true British-style pub in Dallas. "There's The Londoner," I told him.

"That's north of 635," he complained.

"Yeah, a 15-minute drive," I said.

Fifteen minutes is nothing. Traffic uncertainties aside, it takes the same amount of time to traverse Uptown, to drive from The Old Monk, say, to The Idle Rich. Yet he refused to make that effort, even for the one thing he most wanted--pub-wise at least.

It's an interesting phenomenon, but not an unusual one. Urban
provincialism exists in just about every city around the world.
Self-defined boundaries build around entertainment hot spots, the
assembly of a homogeneous group of people--similar wealth binds
Highland Park residents, for instance--or some other local feature.
Eventually, those on the inside of such bounds deem everything outside
undesirable in one way or another.

Presumably there's a part of
human nature that must denigrate others to feel good about itself. So
we yell "we're number one" when those we identify with win the Big
Dance or invade small countries or something. In the same manner,
people scoff at suburban life under the assumption that their patch of
Uptown real estate is artsy, independent, free-thinking or
whatever--and therefore better by comparison.

The suburbs, after
all, are just a haven of dull sameness, right? Back in the 80s, some
college students--particularly those in the east--rebelled against the
supposed yuppie homogeneity of Reagan-era campus life and began to
assert their individualism...by all wearing black. Several years ago,
just about every guy left his shirttail to dangle before entering
Uptown bars. Fashion coordination helped identify you as part of the
right crowd, after all.

And as a unique individual--unlike those sycophants in business 101 or those dullards in Plano.

Now,
many of these very same people who scorn anything outside their narrow
spit of land understand that travel expands world view. Think about
what people on either coast say about America's "flyover states," for
example. Shortly after the Democratic convention, a woman from San
Francisco told me "Middle America" would never elect Obama. Where the
hell did she think he came from? San Jose? While the liberal,
open-minded white folk of Boston fought against the busing of minority
students into their schools way back when, they crowed about racism in
the south. Expanding world view should probably begin on a local level.

I'm
not going to delineate the features, good and bad, of any part of DFW.
My work forces me to bounce from Garland to Uptown to Addison to One
Arts Plaza to wherever. I don't have a choice in the matter. And I see
dull strips everywhere, as well as cool little venues.

Provincialism
is, however, a form of ignorance...and of vanity, for that matter.
There is a section of Prague known as Vinohrady where many expats
cluster in flats constructed, oh, long about the 1890s. Quite a bit
younger than many midwestern town squares, in other words. The same
dynamic works over there: all those British and American residents of
Vinohrady feel they are living a true Prague experience by huddling
together, unlike people residing in the older part of town--the one
also crowded with tourists (and you have to say the word "tourist" with
a tone of complete and utter disdain).

Of course, many of the best restaurants and most interesting pubs
are outside of Vinohrady. But there's enough in that part of town to
take care of every necessity, so...

Dallasfood.org is one of the few venues where people launch into
lengthy, interesting tirades on such subjects. I'm glad someone brought
it up. Gave me a bit of inspiration for my own Monday rant, at least.

There's a valid reason for those inside the loop (and inside the
bubble) to steer clear of suburban haunts, and it has to do with the
availability of bars and restaurants and whatever else one needs. If
there's a suitable option close by, why drive elsewhere after a busy
day?

But to refuse because, in one's own mind, there's nothing unique or
worthwhile out there in "Oklahoma"? Well, that's provincialism at its
finest.